


You Are the Most Perfect Thing

by Earthquake_Priestess



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mentioned Black Eagles Students (Fire Emblem), Oral Sex, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Time Skip, Sex, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Boys, True Love, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earthquake_Priestess/pseuds/Earthquake_Priestess
Summary: Linhardt had waited for Dorothea his entire life. Another ten minutes wouldn’t kill him.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Bernadetta von Varley, Dorothea Arnault/Linhardt von Hevring, Ferdinand von Aegir/Petra Macneary
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	You Are the Most Perfect Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, Fire Emblem 3 Houses popped my video game cherry, I played Black Eagles and fell in love with this pairing, hope you enjoy.
> 
> I do not own any of this but am very thankful for the people who do; they have piqued my interest and my imagination. 
> 
> This story is un-beta-ed, so sorry if there are any typos!
> 
> I’m @earthquake-priestess on Tumblr if you feel inclined to say hey!

She stood on the balcony, waiting. The cool night air was perfectly, blissfully still.

Dorothea sighed, surveying the view that lay out before her – dark ribbons of country roads embroidering a quilt of farmland that was bordered by the sea, blue-gray in the dusk. The land went on for miles, and all of it was now, incredibly, hers. The lights from the party below glittered as darkness gathered, voices and laughter echoing up at her, as people made their way out of the manor’s courtyard, bound for home. She thought she could hear Caspar’s booming laugh, which made her smile. He was always the last to leave a party.

Well, almost always. If it had been a different occasion, another time, another life, Dorothea would still be down there – flashing a charming smile, stealing a last dance, a kiss from a stranger in an expensive cloak.

But that life was over. It had been over for a long time. Ever since she had fallen in love with him.

She smoothed the front of her pristine, white gown. It had been made just for her, ivory lace over a fitted champagne-colored sheath with a low-cut bodice that hugged her curves tightly, flaring out at the knees and revealing just a peek of the diamond-colored shoes she wore. Her long, brown curls cascaded down her back, framing an ivory cape that draped down her shoulders onto the floor. Her husband had spared no expense in making her feel precious to him – case-in-point, the enormous diamond ring on her finger, surrounded by a cluster of rubies – even though he did not believe in flaunting his money. To him, she was worth it.

She bit her lip, trying to stifle the enormous smile spreading across her face. She was really here. She was not dreaming. For the first time in what had been a whirlwind of a day, her heart began to truly race, and she couldn’t resist the urge to giggle. Any minute now, he would notice she had slipped away from the party, and he would come up to their bedchamber. The anticipation was killing her.

~ ~ ~

Linhardt had noticed her make a quiet exit from the party, of course, but he would never give his wife the satisfaction of knowing that. It would spoil all the fun. He had intended to wait fifteen minutes or so, just to keep her on her toes, and then slip upstairs himself to join her.

His wife. He could hardly believe it.

It seemed like ages ago that he had first approached her, though in reality it had been less than a year. He had spent the better part of a month getting up the courage to ask her to dinner. She had smirked, and said he was “weird,” but she had gone anyway. Sometimes he tortured himself wondering what would have happened if she had refused his invitation – for that one dinner had changed a great deal between them. He had admired Dorothea from the moment he met her, of course – powerful beauty that she was – but even he was surprised by how much they had in common as they chatted over some immortality stew. Like himself, Dorothea was silver-tongued; a great lover of art and science. She was also his intellectual equal – a fact that shocked him because he had thought nobody, man or woman, would ever deserve being called such.

He had learned, too, that night, that Dorothea, unlike him, was brave. She was unapologetically passionate.

And she was beautiful. By the Goddess, she was so beautiful.

As the war drew on, their bond had only grown. They fought alongside one another as their Emperor cut her path through the Kingdom, and Linhardt had started to pick up an awareness of Dorothea that was like a sixth-sense – he knew where she was at every moment, on or off the battlefield. It was the only thing that kept him sane, as he grew increasingly anxious that something would happen to her. He learned that Dorothea cried herself to sleep after she had felled someone in battle. He slept less, and trained harder – if only to make sure that after the war, she would have someone to come home to. His new attitude only confused Ferdinand and Caspar, who both attributed all the training to some deeply-hidden desire to beat back the enemy – but, no. It was for Dorothea. So that she would live, and it would be all right.

He had enjoyed the pleasure of holding her in his sleep only a few times – a comfort that was beyond bliss – but tonight was going to be the first time he made love to her. Perhaps it would have shocked Linhardt’s friends to know that sensual activities weren’t foreign to him, with either men or women, but it hadn’t shocked Dorothea. It was just another thing they had in common – a mutual enjoyment of human beauty, regardless of gender.

But with her…

He had known, perhaps immediately, that she was the only person in the world for him. 

He had waited for her his entire life. Another ten minutes wouldn’t kill him.

~ ~ ~

As the minutes ticked by, Dorothea began to feel nervous, which was really, really strange.

It wasn’t as if she was some sort of blushing innocent bride. That honor was reserved for the likes of Bernadetta, who had gone into full-on panic mode on her wedding night. Dorothea chuckled to herself as she remembered the moment that Petra had realized they would have to give poor Bernie “the talk.” It would have been a massive fiasco if Petra hadn’t been so calm and understanding, because Dorothea could not stop laughing. Thank the Goddess for Petra.

No, sex wasn’t foreign to Dorothea, although it had often been disappointing. She had done things with rich, spoiled, selfish men that either bored her to tears, or left a bad taste in her mouth. It had been a bit easier with women – they were a little more playful, a little less guarded – but, Dorothea realized, she hadn’t ever had sex with someone she loved.

And she _loved_ Lin. Madly, though she hadn’t shared this with anyone.

At first, she had brushed off her feelings for Linhardt as irrational – she was just obsessing, that was it. Because they were at war. She was emotionally intelligent enough to know that people were only mooning around because they were all pretty sure they were going to die. She could not deny that over the long years of the war, he had become annoyingly handsome, but that, she assured herself, was just a distraction. The more she got to know Lin, however…

She was shocked to realize that he was both brutally honest, and wickedly funny at the same time. He had patience. He would sit and listen to her talk about opera for hours – and just when she thought he wasn’t paying attention; he would interject some smart comment. He always said the right thing, even when he didn’t. And soon, whenever he was away from her, she felt an ache in her chest, an emptiness underneath her heart. His absence was so loud, in comparison to his quiet, clever presence. In a world that felt chaotic, he was solid. He was earth.

She had been crying, the first night he came to her room in Garreg Mach. She had killed someone that day – someone she knew in school. Lin had been almost finished with his watch duty, heard her crying, and come to comfort her. She remembered trying to explain, trying to tell him she was fine – and in response, he shook his head and climbed, cat-like, into bed beside her, still wearing his robes. “It’s all right, Dorothea,” he had murmured, his soft deep voice like a lullaby in her ear. “I cry for them sometimes too.”

She had continued to weep, and he had held her tightly, stroking her hair, calming her. She had felt the urge to apologize to him for being such a mess, and Lin had planted a soft, tender kiss upon her forehead. It had rocked her to her core, and she had shuddered, suddenly aware of how gentle his touch was, the way his thin frame curled around hers. His shoulders were broad and his fingers were long, and his pale lips were soft when they touched her head. She was… conflicted. He was here, wasn’t he? And didn’t that mean he wanted…

“Sleep, Dorothea,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her face. “Sleep, if you can. You’ll feel better.”

And she could remember the overwhelming relief that had washed over her. He hadn’t come here because he wanted something. He had come here only for her. To make sure she was okay.

And that was the moment she knew.

“I love you,” she had whispered.

But he was already fast asleep.

~ ~ ~

Linhardt tried to make his exit from the wedding party quickly and without a fuss.

Unfortunately for him, his groomsmen had other plans.

“Not so fast, Linhardt!” Ferdinand crowed, throwing a lanky arm around him.

“You didn’t think you were going to just slip away without anyone noticing, didja?” chuckled Caspar, who tripped over his own feet. He had clearly had more than his fill of Hevring Estate’s finest spiced wine that night.

Linhardt struggled not to roll his eyes. He should have known this was coming, he thought, as Ferdinand and Caspar marched him through the double doors off the party terrace and into the lavish drawing room beyond. He had a funny feeling that they were going to attempt to… educate him.

He chuckled to himself. What his friends didn’t know about his sexual history could fill an encyclopedia. This would be fun.

Ferdinand sat him down clumsily upon a comfortable velvet divan, and pulled a chair around, sitting upon it smugly. Caspar plopped down on the divan beside Linhardt, luxuriating and giggling.

“We thought it would be imprudent to let you go upstairs to Lady Dorothea without having some words with you,” Ferdinand smirked. “About marital relations.”

At the phrase “marital relations,” Caspar doubled over with laughter.

“How thoughtful of you, Ferdinand,” Linhardt replied, dryly, lounging back upon the divan. “Although seeing as you and Petra are not yet married, and our _married_ friend Caspar here is sloshing about on the furniture like a drunken brigand, I think I’ll pass.”

“Hey, I’m ready!” Caspar shot back, sitting up abruptly, his blue hair sticking up at an odd angle. “I’ve been waiting for this!”

“While your concern is… touching,” Linhardt continued, smiling slightly, “there really isn’t anything for you to be concerned about. I have…”

“Listen, Linhardt,” Ferdinand interjected. “I do not wish to offend, only to help you. I’m certain you have a great many questions, and perhaps, what with my refined noble education and etiquette, I could…”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute…” Caspar giggled. “Your refined noble education? How’s that supposed to help ol’Linhardt go to pound town?”

Ferdinand went scarlet. It clashed horribly with his long red hair, which was currently tied back into a neat ponytail. “There are certain… codes of conduct. Husbands have duties,” he blustered.

“Yeah, I know,” said Caspar, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I am one, remember?”

“Yes, and you behaved like an oaf carrying Bernadetta off like that on your wedding night,” Ferdinand huffed. “Linhardt shouldn’t be taking advice from you. Dorothea would never allow…”

“I was not! It was an inside joke between me and Bernie!” Caspar rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. Listen, Linhardt, we’ve been friends since we were six years old. All I’m saying is I am here to help.” He gave a clumsy little mock bow.

Linhardt considered the pair. He would have laughed at them outright if they weren’t trying so hard to be helpful. “Listen, you two, there’s really nothing to be concerned about.”

“Linhardt,” Ferdinand said, with the air of someone breaking some very bad news. “You spent all your school days cloistered away in the library like a monk. We _know_ you’ve never…well…”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about the library,” Linhardt said, raising an eyebrow. “Lots of girls hang out in the library. Boys, too, for that matter. There are lots of quiet corners. Hardly anyone goes in there, you know, because of all the dusty old books.”

Ferdinand furrowed his brow, obviously confused.

Linhardt pivoted. “Ferdinand, have you ever heard of a book called ‘The Almyran Ecstasy?’ ‘She Comes First: How to Treat your Lady Like a Princess?’ Or perhaps ‘Fodlan’s Throat: A History of Sexual Prowess?’”

Caspar sputtered, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

“What is your point, old friend?” Ferdinand asked, his brows furrowed.

“I’m just curious,” said Linhardt, smiling. “So, maybe I spent a lot of time in the library at school. Oh well. It pays to do your research.”

Ferdinand looked dumbstruck. “All those hours you spent up in the library… you were reading…”

“Well, not all of them,” Linhardt admitted, evenly. “I also read a great deal about science and military tactics. It’s amazing what sorts of things you can learn on a trip to the library.” He pulled out his pocket watch. _Damn_. He was running five minutes behind schedule, and that simply would not do. “I’ll see you gentlemen later. I’m late to meet my wife.”

And, chuckling to himself as Caspar scrambled to grab a paper and pen and jot down the titles he had listed, Linhardt made his way up the stairs.

~ ~ ~

It was taking her husband longer to arrive than she had anticipated. But Dorothea would not let this worry her.

She left the balcony, walking into the large bedchamber. _Our bedchamber_ , she had to remind herself. It was only the beginning of summer, so there was no fire in the large, ornate fireplace, but instead a beautiful arrangement of candles, glittering mildly and bathing the room in a warm glow.

Soft linen curtains around the doors to the balcony drifted lazily in the breeze as Dorothea made her way into the room. Her eyes were drawn instantly towards the enormous, mahogany four-poster bed, blanketed with white linen sheets. It looked like a luxurious cloud. Dorothea sat down on a nearby velvet divan, pouring herself a glass of wine from a bottle that had clearly been set out for the pair of them. The room smelled faintly of spices and the sea, which was barely visible through tall, mullioned windows beside the bed. It smelled like Lin.

The wine, too, tasted of spices and the sea. Dorothea sighed. _The sea_. She had spent so much of her youth dreaming of what her adult life would be like – who she would marry, what kind of clothes she would wear, how she would be adored and never have to go back to the streets. And yet she had never dreamed of living so close to the sea, let alone being married on a bluff overlooking the waves. She had never dreamed of being given away by her beloved Professor – she had never dreamed of being given away by anyone. And she certainly had never dreamed that the person she married would also be the love of her life. She had planned to marry for the perfect combination of money and attraction – both familiar concepts.

Love – deep love, the kind of love that keeps you up at night and permeates your dreams, the kind of love that feels like being _known_ for who you are – that was new to her.

The events of the day blurred in her memory – being fussed over by Bernie, Petra, and Edie, laughing, dancing, being traded between friends and loved ones for hugs and words of well-wishing. She couldn’t even remember what she had eaten for dinner – although she was 90% sure there had been cake. But the way he looked – standing before her and the Priestess, surrounded by the green sea and the blue sky, tall and so handsome, his green eyes alight with a funny blend of longing and gratitude – she would remember until the day she died.

She took another sip of the spiced red wine, licking her lips, thinking about Lin. She had waited for Lin for a long time.

~ ~ ~

He climbed up the stone stairs, two at a time, knocked softly on the thick oak door, and entered without waiting for a response. There was no need.

The room was bathed in moonlight and candlelight. And there she was – silhouetted against a wall of candles that rested inside the fireplace, holding a glass of wine in her hand, her pure white cloak draped languidly over the back of the divan. He could just make out the curve of her smile as she took a sip of wine, pretending not to notice him.

She was utterly perfect.

He bolted the door behind him, and strode lazily over to where she sat, grazing his hand along her shoulder as he did so. Dorothea looked up, her bright blue eyes sparkling, as she stood to meet him, her hands cupping the glass of wine, holding it out to him as an offering.

“What took you so long?” she purred, tipping the cup of sweet wine up to meet his lips.

He sipped, letting her offering swirl around his tongue. Languidly, he examined her wedding ring, taking the cup from her. “Ferdinand and Caspar,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on her palm.

“How rude of them.” Dorothea blinked coquettishly as she played with the ornamental buttons on his chest.

“It’s all right, I showed them out,” Linhardt smiled, sipping his wine. The swooping sensation he had felt earlier that day, when he saw Dorothea in her wedding gown for the first time was unforgettable, but it was nothing – nothing – to the shiver that went down his spine as he saw her up close. The lacy material was tailored perfectly to every curve in her body. He indulged himself for a moment, taking in her perfect hips, her small waist, the rise of her beautiful breasts – and he felt himself grow hard. Blissfully, he pondered that this must be desire’s most perfect object – his Dorothea, in her pure white gown.

“Good,” she said, taking his wine glass away from him, and placing it upon the mantle. She paused there for a moment, leaning up against the wall, her hands behind her back. He wanted to drag out the moment before, to remember it perfectly, but his feet seemed to be carrying him forward, and he could not wrench his eyes away from her awaiting lips.

~ ~ ~

She had intended to tease him awhile, as they had done in the past. It was a game they had played throughout the length of their courtship – a competition that she often won. The object of the game was to behave so sensuously that the other person would be either forced to vacate the room for fear of spoiling their little experiment.

The premise of the experiment: what would happen if two very tactile, sensual people waited to fully enjoy each other until their wedding night? This was the research question Lin had been so curious to answer. Dorothea’s curiosity was piqued. It was thrilling to have a secret that they could share, and as the months before their wedding drew near, they had both amused themselves trying to get the other person to crack.

But the experiment ended tonight.

She had scarcely gotten the chance to drink him in – his tall, slender frame so striking in his black and green robes, which trailed to the floor; his long green hair cascading down his back, soulful green eyes looking straight into hers, burning her with the intensity of his gaze. She had only teased a little, positioning herself so tantalizingly up against the wall, but he apparently couldn’t resist. Before she knew it, he was pinning her to the spot as he brushed his lips against hers in a wanton, wine-soaked kiss.

She writhed against him, arching her back, melting into him, licking the wine deftly off the corner of his mouth. She longed to throw a leg around him, to grapple every part of his body she could reach, but her restrictive gown prohibited such indelicate activities. She settled, instead, for reaching her hands up and tangling them in his dark green tresses, pulling only a little. He groaned, and suckled on her bottom lip, forcing her to let out a little moan. Her sex began to ache with longing.

Lin had obviously spotted her predicament, because two seconds later, Dorothea found herself ass-upwards in the air as she was hoisted over the shoulder of her tall, deceptively strong husband. She shrieked his name and giggled heartily, and was rewarded with the soft, smoky laugh she loved so well. He dumped her upon the bed flat on her back, which only made her laugh harder. His eyes, normally so placid and clever, darkened, and he looked at her as if she were the only other person on earth.

“Dorothea…” he murmured, softly. “How in the name of the Goddess do I get you out of this dress?”

~ ~ ~

She laughed again, a deep, musical laugh that excited him nearly as much as the sight of her lying before him. He was in for it now, he knew, as he stared down at her, her dark hair fanned out on the bright white linens, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“You first,” she whispered, indecently, and she propped herself up to get a better look at him. The way the candlelight hit every angle of her beautiful face made her look like the subject of a painting.

“As you wish,” he said, softly, dangerously, and began to disrobe, unclipping his emerald pin and shrugging off his outer robes in one simple gesture. They fell to the floor with a soft thump, pooling around his feet. Next he started on the buttons of his vest. Not looking at Dorothea, he began to unclasp them slowly, one by one, smiling to himself as he observed her squirming out of the corner of his eye. By the time he had gotten down to his shirtsleeves, his wife had clearly had enough. She rose off the bed, her hands fluttering over the buttons, peppering the tender skin around his neck with soft kisses as she pushed aside his high collar. He would have paused for a moment to admire the facility with which her perfect fingers undid the long line of buttons if he hadn’t been so distracted by Dorothea’s lips, so soft and gentle, making their way up towards his ear.

He let his shirt fall to the ground and picked her up, pulling her sideways onto his lap – and oh, this was bliss – the weight of her upon him, the feel of her hands exploring his bare chest, the curve of her bottom beneath his hand. She let out another little moan at his ministrations, and Linhardt responded by drawing her sweet tongue against his own. He wanted to devour her whole.

Her hands disappeared, and he was vaguely aware of a soft clicking sound as she undid the clasps of her white cape, which came undone from her shoulders, falling onto his roving hands and covering them in volumes of fabric. He shook the thing off. Why did clothes have so many buttons and layers? It was a horrible nuisance.

Then, mercifully, his hands found a long row of fabric-covered buttons that ran down her spine. The buttons were in the back. That was it. Thank the Goddess.

Dorothea was kissing along his jaw again, leaving a warm, feathery sensation on each spot she touched. He breathed deeply, and with much less skill than his wife’s, began to undo the buttons down her back.

“No fair,” she breathed, softly into his ear. “I thought I said you first.”

He planted a soft, tender, torturous kiss on the nape of her neck. “Whoever said I was going to play fair?” he mumbled, suckling her skin between his teeth.

~ ~ ~

He was a horrible tease, and she was in agony, as he planted a little love bite on the back of her neck, his clever hands moving slowly – so slowly – down the buttons that ran to the base of her spine. She arched her neck, kissing the soft skin behind his ear, and he let out a low growl.

“Dorothea…”

Her lips cracked into a wide smile at the sound of her name. Lin was almost to the base of the row now, and her whole back was exposed, the summer air tickling the hairs that ran up and down her spine. She shivered as he stroked the length of her back.

With the air of someone conducting a solemn ritual, her husband helped her to her feet beside the bed, and, continuing to plant languid kisses along her neck, guided her gown gently to the floor, where it joined with his own clothes in a pool of black and white. She could feel his ragged breathing on her neck as she stood with her back to him, naked but for the thin undergarments that covered her sex. Dorothea could not help but smile as she turned around to face him.

She stared up into his chiseled, pensive face, and found herself dumbstruck by his beauty– the way the shadows and light played upon his face, his long green hair resting upon pale, strong shoulders that framed a lithe, muscular chest. The look in his large green eyes could only be described as reverent.

“You are the most perfect thing, Dorothea,” he breathed.

There was nothing left for her to do but reach up and kiss him. She wound herself into his arms, her hands caressing the broad expanse of his shoulders. With the swiftness of a mage, he picked her up and pulled her down astride his lap. And oh, this was beyond delicious – she could feel him, feel how stiff he was, how his cock strained at his trousers. She wound her fingers through his hair and began to rock, slowly, brushing his hardness against her warm, wet center. He let out a low whimper and it gave her a little shock of pleasure to hear the tenor of torturous lust in his voice as she kissed and sucked her way up his long neck. He was playing with her breasts now, tracing slow circles over one nipple, which grew pert with arousal. She gasped, biting her lip, and pulled his chin down so she could look at his face – make him see what he was doing to her. Glazed with desire and curiosity, his dark green eyes studied her. His lip curled, and he laughed, softly.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured.

“Y-yes,” she breathed. There was nothing in the world but the warmth of him.

~ ~ ~

He felt like his brain had exploded. He felt like he had died and gone to heaven. And yet, he was here; more grounded to the earth than he had ever been, because Dorothea was here, and the heat of her, the weight of her, the way she smelled – it enveloped him like a cloak. Her body, like an hourglass, was softer and warmer than any human person had a right to be. And her generous breasts, which he was now holding in his own two hands, were like their own perfect worlds. And, oh, the way she had responded when he had touched them…

She was kissing his neck again, letting out little shameless whimpers as he toyed with her shiny, rosy nipples, and she was rubbing her sex up against him again, making him throb. He could not resist moaning, and he wound his free hand up in her hair, sucking blissfully on her lower lip. Suddenly, he found himself pinned on his back beneath her, head resting on the soft mattress, as she arched her back playfully, her breasts brushing against his chest. She kissed him so fiercely he saw stars. Her hair fell around his face like curtains. _I am dreaming_ , he thought, and he pulled her slightly upwards so he could draw one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking it lazily with his tongue. Her response – the way she shuddered and mewled – was more than confirmation that he was not dreaming.

She was toying near his collarbone now, licking and suckling, and he would have protested – he wanted some part of her back in his mouth – if it hadn’t felt like such a pure and salacious expression of devotion. He felt gentle hands petting him through the outside of his trousers and he moaned – this was not the plan. The plan was to please her. But deftly, swiftly, she had undone all the buttons, and suddenly her soft hand had enveloped his entire length, and oh, this was completely different. This was fireworks. This was lightning.

He found her face, and saw that she was grinning, lazily, as she stroked him.

“Perfect,” she whispered, kissing him gently.

~ ~ ~

He was putty in her hands, and she was completely undone. She felt a droplet of seed fall into her hand, and swirled it around the head of his perfect cock, which curved gently upwards. He shuddered, looking at her with hungry eyes, his hair falling around his shoulders with wild abandon.

She had only meant to tease him for a little, but it was just too delicious to resist. His cock was hot and throbbing in her hands, and she was addicted to the expression on his face as she touched him, the way he groaned and bit his lip as he looked at her. But – no, he was pushing her back, with that same warrior-like swiftness that she barely had time to counter. Her head hit the fluffy pillows with a soft thump, and he spread her apart, kneeling between her legs, discarding his trousers and undergarments like a piece of flotsam. She could fully admire him now – the long lines of his naked body in the moonlight, his cock jutting towards her like a spear.

She looked up at him, quizzically, daring him to make the next move. He smirked back at her with a sort of sexy, self-important gaze that she would come to associate with imminent pleasure. He bowed his head, kissing the valley between her breasts and continuing that downward trajectory, stroking and kissing her belly, clutching at her hips, until finally, he began to mouth at her sex from the outside of her undergarments, his eyes glinting up at her from between her legs. Oh, this was bliss and this was maddening. She squirmed at the sensation, the pleasure of it mingling with her desire for more.

“Permission to perform just one more little experiment on you?” he murmured, grinning.

She could only nod, vigorously; he was so cheeky and so sexy and she had no words.

He slid her undergarments off, gently, and pressed his lips to her sex, licking and sucking, and oh Goddess, she hadn’t remembered it ever feeling this good. She cried out, and he chuckled, circling his tongue languidly over her sweet spot, switching up the rhythm like a master. He dipped one long finger into her cunt, curling it upwards slightly, and she felt a wave of pleasure nearly drown her. She wound her fingers through his hair as he licked and fondled her madly, and she could not stop herself from crying out, as building waves of pleasure exposed her, threatened to envelop her, and then faded. His focus was singular, and he clutched her hips with his free hand, as if dying to ruin her. She whimpered and shuddered, so close to the edge it was torture. And then he changed his pace, and oh, this was bliss, and unreal, and waves upon waves of pleasure came crashing down at her all at once. She cried out, not holding back, as echoes of her climax rang throughout her body. Wildly, she pulled him up towards her, tasting her own juices on his lips, and he was smiling, and kissing her back so fiercely she thought she might bruise.

“I told you I wouldn’t play fair,” he breathed.

Now it was her turn to laugh with abandon. She seized him, and before he could respond, pushed him onto his back.

“Then I won’t either,” she murmured, looking down at his surprised face.

~ ~ ~

The sweet taste of her lingered on his tongue as he looked up into her beautiful face, taking in her kiss-swollen lips, the impish look in her eyes. The cry she had let out at the center of her orgasm had completely undone him with desire, and all he knew was that he wanted to hear her cry out like that again.

She sat astride him again, her beautiful breasts dangling tantalizingly in front of him, her wild curls framing her perfectly. She fondled the head of his cock, and he bit back a moan, unable to wrench his gaze away from her face, which was alight with sex and mischief.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” she said, tantalizingly.

He could not answer, he could only nod, and plead with his eyes that she would take him, wreck him, envelop him.

She ran one finger down his throbbing shaft, and this was absolute torture. He could take it no longer.

“Dorothea, please…” he moaned.

“Oh, do you want something?” she purred, delight sparkling in her eyes.

“M-More than anything,” he begged, and she lifted a finger to his lips, and nodded.

She lowered herself down onto him, burying him to the hilt, and oh, Goddess, she was wet, and tight, and he could not resist bucking his hips in time with hers as she rocked, slowly, gently, her breath coming out in gasps as she took him in his entirety.

As if of one mind, they picked up the pace, and his desire took over the reins – she was _all_ , and pert, and wet, and generous, and he wanted to fuck her to the ends of the earth, buried in her so deeply that he could not tell his body from hers. She was gasping, and moaning, her head arched back, biting her lip in pleasure.

Through the fog of lust, a moment of inspiration struck his blood-deprived brain, and he rested his hand upon her belly, his thumb perfectly positioned to brush against the perfect bud between her legs. She whimpered, and her moans grew louder, and her breathing grew heavier, and he was buried under a mountain of bliss and sweat and Dorothea, in all her perfection, was coming undone as she rode him, her face a blaze of ecstasy as they rolled together and he fell over into a euphoric, unearthly climax, driving his cock into her as she screamed his name.

All was breath, and sweat, and her hazy face, smiling widely as she fell onto the pillows beside him.

~ ~ ~

The room smelled like spices, and the sea, and sex. It was going to become Dorothea’s favorite combination of scents.

Lin held her, whispering naughty and splendid nothings in her ear as she kissed his beautiful face. Their earlier closeness had not satiated her – she wanted to drink him whole.

“I keep expecting you to fall asleep,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his as they lay, face-to face, eyes open.

“And miss this? I’ll never sleep again,” he chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. His own hair still fell in curtains beside him, and she found that she loved it. She was the only person who got to see his hair completely undone.

She considered him for a moment as he planted another soft kiss on her forehead. There were not enough words to describe the feeling of lying next to him in their bed, in their house, the whole future laying out before them – a beautiful, unexpected mystery.

The closest word she could think to describe how she felt was “complete,” she thought, but then she closed her eyes, and thought no more.

~ ~ ~

Watching his Dorothea fall asleep was an unprecedented treasure. She was a vision of loveliness as her eyes grew heavy, and her face smoothed over into peaceful slumber. Linhardt pulled her closer, feeling the soothing rhythm of her slow breathing, relishing in the warmth of her body as she curled into him.

They belonged to each other, and he would not miss a minute of it, he thought, as he, too, drifted off to join her in sleep.


End file.
